regret

pirate died today.

we thought he was only sick.

it turned out to be more an issue of age.

anguish is to be the first one to play with your dog and also the one to send him for his final injection. to watch his eye stare blankly at nothing. to see that familiar rise and fall of his chest cease. and after all that the only memento you get is a death certificate.

when your last moment is spent staring at the door at the end of the corridor, hoping you'd get to see the one you grew up with walk through it and knowing finally with your last breath that it's not going to happen, i don't know, you'd kind of lose hope right?

i walk through the door and down the corridor to the stretcher. i kneel down next to his head and lift the towel. i stare at him. the unmoving body, the slack jaw, the lifeless eye. i lift his head in my palm and try to close his eye, but realise it wouldn't close because the skin and muscles have already stopped working.

and then it hits you all at once: he didn't get the best food, he didn't enjoy his last few years, he didn't get the love and care he deserved. and how the hell did he get so old? where did his teenage years go?

the final cold thought that washes through me as i see where his eye is pointed is that i didn't choose to be with him during the shot when he fucking needed me and it's too fucking late now.

baby. i'm sorry i never really took care of you.
i'm sorry i didn't do enough when there was still time.
i'm so sorry i wasn't there to tell you everything's going to be alright.